


Dahlia and the Diamond Thief

by Wotwotleigh



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse, WODEHOUSE P. G. - Works
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Holiday Fic Exchange, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wotwotleigh/pseuds/Wotwotleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aunt Dahlia tells Bertie a surprising story about Jeeves's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dahlia and the Diamond Thief

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to the Yule fic prompt, "pre-series Aunt Dahlia meeting a young Jeeves." Enjoy, mysterious prompter! 

**Title:** Dahlia and the Diamond Thief  
 **Author:** Wotwotleigh  
 **Chapter:** 1/1  
 **Pairing:** Jeeves/Bertie (mild pre-slash stuff)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Words:** About 5,900  
 **Summary:** Aunt Dahlia tells Bertie a surprising story about Jeeves's past.  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters. I'm just writing this for fun.  
 **Author's Notes:** This is in response to the Yule fic prompt, "pre-series Aunt Dahlia meeting a young Jeeves." Enjoy, mysterious prompter! 

  
The thing about Jeeves is that, just when I think I have him figured out, something crops up that knocks my whole perception of the chap for a loop. I’ve always known that Jeeves moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform, but his capacity to surprise never ceases to, well, surprise. I mean to say, you never can tell, what?

Take, for example, the case of Jeeves and my aunt Dahlia. It all came out one winter when I was laid low by a particularly nasty influenza sort of thingummy. You know the type of thing: you spend about three days feeling as though you are taking it in turns sitting in a skillet and running about the North Pole in your unmentionables. The bean seems to have about ten gallons of water sloshing about in it. And just when you are beginning to say to yourself, “Death, old chum, where is thy bally sting?” something sort of jogs loose and you suddenly start to feel better.

Well, that is the condition in which you would have found Wooster, B. W., if you had dropped by his flat that morning. I still felt like something that had been excavated from Tutankhamun’s tomb, but at least I was beginning to get on to the idea that I might be well again some distant day. Every once in a while Jeeves would come surging around with aspirins or cough syrup or some kind of ghastly concoction that involved honey and lemons, and I have learned by now that it is no use trying to fight him off in these situations. I was wrapped up in about 25 blankets, reading a listless spine-chiller and poking half-heartedly at some clear broth when the doorbell tootled.

There was some gentle rustling without, and I heard Jeeves murmur some sort of respectful greeting. In answer came a voice that rattled the spoon in my soup bowl.

“Jeeves!” said the v. “How is the young scoundrel?”

“Mr. Wooster’s condition is improving, Mrs. Travers. I expect that he will be quite well within two or three days.”

For those of you who don’t know, Mrs. Travers is my aunt Dahlia. Among all of my aunts, she stands alone as an upstanding sportsman and all around good egg. I gathered that she must have gotten word that the last of the Woosters was ailing and had decided to cluster round. Not necessary, of course, but you know these aged relatives – always certain that the Spanish Influenza is going to come back into fashion at any moment.

“Thank goodness for you, Jeeves,” said the ancient ancestor, and I thought I detected a hint of a tremor in her voice. “I don’t know what the poor fathead would do without you.”

“I endeavor to give satisfaction, madam.”

“You do more than endeavor.” She dropped her voice to what I suppose she took to be a conspiratorial tone. “It’s awfully decent of you to stick around like you have.”

“My place is assuredly by Mr. Wooster’s side at such a time as this, madam.”

“Oh, I don’t mean now. I mean since the start. I never expected you to hold out so long. You really have grown attached to the little squirt, haven’t you?”

“I am exceedingly fond of Mr. Wooster, madam.”

“Bless you, Jeeves. Now vamoose, before you get sick yourself. I’ll tend the patient for a while.”

“You are most kind, madam.” There was another gentle rustling, and I knew that Jeeves was no longer among us.

Well, I don’t know about you, but there was something about the exchange outlined above that struck me as rather rummy. I don’t know what it is about being sick – maybe it’s the inflammation of the brain tissue – but for some reason things that I normally wouldn’t notice take on a sort of disconcerting whatsit. In this case, it was that whole “I never expected you to hold out so long” gag. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It puzzled me. I failed to grasp the significance.

As I was mulling it over, the door to the sick room opened and Aunt Dahlia blew across the threshold, looking larger and pinker than ever.

“What ho, Aunt Dahlia,” I croaked.

 “Bertie, my dear old ass, you look like one of those things one finds under mossy rocks,” she said fondly.

“I feel about the same, dearest a., but Jeeves assures me I am on the road to recovery.”

“Well, with Jeeves, you are in the best possible hands.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

“Anything I can get you? More soup?”

I shuddered like a leaf. “My dear Aunt Dahlia. If I ingest another drop of soup, I will explode in a fine mist of broth and shreds of heliotrope pyjamas. What I’d like more than anything would be a whacking big slab of steak and kidney pie and a stiff drink, but I don’t suppose it’s in the cards.”

“I’m afraid not. Jeeves still thinks you ought to be on a diet of clear broth and tea with lemon.”

I shuddered like a second leaf. “I suppose he knows best. How about some company, then?”

“I suppose I could manage that.”

“Talking of Jeeves,” I said, as she pulled up a chair, “what was that you were saying to him before?”

“What was what?”

“I mean that business about not expecting him to stick around so long.”  

She gave me a penetrating sort of look. “Oh, you heard that, did you? I’m surprised he’s never told you, come to think of it.”

“Told me what?”

“Well, I’ll be a son of a bachelor. He hasn’t, has he?”

“I’m quite in a fog. To what are you alluding, old flesh and blood?”

“Do you remember how Jeeves came to work for you?”

A silly question, it struck me as. “Yes, Aunt Dahlia,” I answered patiently. “The agency sent him round, and I engaged him.”

“Ha!”

“What do you mean, ‘Ha!’?”

“I mean ‘Ha!’ You are not in possession of all the facts, young Wooster.”

“Oh, no?”

“Oh, no. Do you know when I first met Jeeves?”

“Well, if memory serves . . .”

“I can assure you, it doesn’t. You weren’t there. I met Jeeves fifteen years ago, when you were a mere slip of a lad.”

“What!”

“Would you like the long version, or the short?”

I settled back on the pillows and pulled the coverlet up to my chin. “At the moment, I have nothing but time, Aunt Dahlia. Tell me all.”

\---

“It all began,” she began, “when Tom decided to buy me a perfectly ludicrous diamond bracelet. I don’t know what came over him – some strange fit of sentimentality, or possibly water on the brain. He spent a bundle on it, too – something to the tune of ten thousand pounds.

“Well, I knew the moment I saw the thing that it was going to be trouble. I would have just as soon he gave me the money to help me get _Milady’s Boudoir_ off the ground. But of course, a woman can’t very well complain when her husband comes home with a ten thousand quid bauble. So I dutifully made a fuss over the ghastly thing, and even wore it from time to time. Tom, of course, never stopped fretting about it. ‘Did I pay a fair price for the damn thing?’ ‘For heaven’s sake, Dahlia, watch the catch! You’ll drop it in your soup!’ Far more trouble than it was worth, I thought.

“One day, Tom got to talking with a friend of his at his club, a Mr. Montague Todd.”

At this juncture, I cut into the narrative. “Gosh, I know that name! Jeeves used to work for this Todd bird. He was doing a stretch in chokey when Jeeves came to work for me.”

“I shouldn’t wonder. It wouldn’t have been his first, and I doubt it will be his last. The fellow was as crooked as Harry Lauder’s walking stick. He was a financier of sorts, and apparently fancied himself an amateur gemologist as well. And when Tom heard about _that_ , of course the idiot had to tell the Todd excrescence all about my bracelet. Naturally, Todd wanted to have a look at the thing, so Tom invited him to come round and spend a few days at Brinkley.”

I sucked in the breath and shook the bean. “One sees where this is going. Ominous, Aunt Dahlia, very ominous.”

She snorted. “Naturally so, in hindsight. But a fat lot of good hindsight has ever done anyone, if you ask me.  Anyway, the blighter showed up on our doorstep about a week later with a veritable cortege. He had dragged along his daughter and a young fellow that he introduced as his personal secretary, one Archibald Tweed.

“This Tweed character caught my attention right away. I thought at the time he must have been only about twenty, but looking back I think he was probably even younger than that. He was tall, dark, thin as a whippet, and floated along behind Todd like a shadow of a ghost. Never said a word unless spoken to; just hung about the place exuding quiet respect. I’m not sure if Tom even noticed he was there.

“Well, Tom slaughtered the fatted calf and dragged out the eighty-nine port, and he and Todd tied one on over the feeding trough. Afterwards, when we were all having the after dinner snootful in the sitting room, Tom said, ‘Well, Monty, what about it, then? Will you have a look at the thing?’

“’Oh, quite, quite, yes, yes, yes!’ said Todd, and he was waving his glass around in a positively predatory way. ‘Let’s see it, Dahlia,’ said Tom, so I unhitched the bracelet and handed it over. But I don’t mind telling you the whole thing was beginning to feel positively menacing.

“Everyone gathered round to get a better look. The thing was absolutely on fire in the gas light. Todd’s daughter – Rosalie, I think her name was – gave a little gasp and clasped her hand to her throat. Tweed just stood by with absolutely no expression on his face whatever. The lad could have been carved from a hunk of stone.

“’Ah, yes,’ said Todd. ‘Yes, yes, yes. Well, well. Tweed, fetch me my glasses, will you? I must have left them in my coat.’

“’As you say, Mr. Todd,’ said Tweed, and he went slinking off. He returned a few minutes later and handed over the spectacles, and Todd went back to eyeballing my jewels.

“After a few moments, Todd straightened up, clicked his tongue, and shot Tom a sort of pitying look. ‘Oh dear me,’ he said. ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but . . .’

“’Yes? Yes? What is it?’ said Tom.

“’Thomas, old chap,’ says Todd, ‘I’m afraid you’ve been had.’

“Poor Tom turned white as a sheet of paper and began lurching around like a racehorse with the staggers. I was afraid for a moment I would lose him right then and there. ‘Whatever do you mean?’ he howled.

“’My dear Travers,’ said the worm Todd, in a voice of unbrookable authority, ‘these gems are all paste. Terribly sorry, old fellow. I suggest you take it back where you got it and get back your . . . what was it? Ten thousand quid?’ And, shaking his head sadly, he handed the bracelet back to me.”

I sat back on the pillows, agog. “Gosh,” I said. “I can only imagine how _that_ went over.”

“Like a lead balloon,” agreed the relative mournfully. “Tom was an absolute wreck. Never have I seen such rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth. He delivered an extraordinarily eloquent soliloquy on a certain jeweler in Bond Street that is not fit to repeat in mixed company, broke a few ornaments on the mantelpiece in a half-hearted sort of way, and declared that he was going to bed.

“It didn’t seem to me as if there was much point in continuing our little party at that point, so I disbanded everyone and retired myself. I was too disgusted to take another look at the damned bracelet, so I tossed it on my dresser and took a futile stab at getting my eight hours.

“The next morning, after breakfast, Tom was positively champing at the bit to have another look at the bracelet in daylight. He was talking wildly of refunds and lawsuits, and I could see he wouldn’t let me or any other soul in the place rest until he had the thing in hand again, so I went back to my room to fetch it. And can you guess what I found on my dresser?”

“I am on the edge of my bed, dearest Auntie.”

“Absolutely zero diamond bracelets, paste or otherwise, that’s what! I ransacked the whole room, and turned up neither hide nor hair of it. Someone had pinched it.”

I found myself a bit puzzled by the turn the narrative had taken at this point. “But why,” I said, “would someone pinch a fake diamond bracelet?”

“Precisely the question I was asking myself. I went and told Tom, and he positively blew a gasket. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he roared. ‘Isn’t it enough that I’ve been swindled out of my hard-earned money? Now I have to be robbed in my own house? When will it end, I ask you?’

“’Oh, simmer down, will you?’ I said. ‘The thing’s a fake anyway.’

“’I don’t give a damn if it _is_ a fake!’ he said. ‘I still paid ten thousand pounds for the blasted thing, didn’t I?’ And he went roaring off to ring the police.

“The rozzers turned the place upside down, but didn’t find a sign of it. Todd, of course, put up a hell of a fuss and wanted to know if this was the way the Traverses were accustomed to treating guests, and Tom wanted to know if Todd was in the habit of jolly well traveling about with a pack of thieves, and the whole thing was getting pretty ugly. The police constable just stood by saying ‘Ho’ or something of that sort –“

“They all do that,” I interjected. “It’s a mark of the breed. They can’t help themselves.”

“—and I was just about to throw up my hands in despair of ever having a peaceful moment again in my life when that odd young Tweed fellow emerged from the shadows and gave a single quiet cough. ‘If I might make a suggestion,’ he said.

“’Well?’ we all said.

“’I believe that a search of Mr. Todd’s right coat pocket will yield rewarding results, Constable,’ he said. Todd turned red as a beet and started spluttering, but the bobby pounced on him and had a hand in his pocket before he could get a coherent word out. And sure enough, when the dust finally settled, the constable had a bracelet in his hand. I thought Todd’s eyes would pop out of his head.

“’You!’ he said, and he made a lunge for Tweed, but the constable stopped him.

“’None of that now, Mr. Todd,’ said the constable. ‘You’ll just come along quiet-like, if you know what’s good for you.’ And that was that. They slapped on the manacles and led him away.”

\---

At this juncture, the aged kinswoman sat back in her armchair and took a moment to gaze at the ceiling. Just checking to see how many chunks of plaster she had jogged loose, I suppose.

“Now, look here, Aunt Dahlia,” I said. “I’m sure it was all terribly gratifying and all that, but you said this was going to be a story about Jeeves. I saw no sign of any Jeeveses whatsoever in your narrative. I am disappointed, old f. and b.”

She poked me with a sharp eyeball. “That’s because I wasn’t finished, fathead.”

“Oh, ah.”

“Don’t worry. You will have your Jeeves soon enough.”

“Right. Carry on, then.”

“As I was saying, they carried off old Todd, and all Hell broke loose. Tom was positively apoplectic. He went tearing off to see if his silver collection had been plundered as well. Rosalie went running out of the house with her face in her hands, and Tweed slipped out after her. I was left alone, holding the accursed bracelet.

“This was the first time I’d stopped to take a close look at the thing since before I handed it over to Todd the night before. Now, I am no jeweler, but I could tell at a glance that the frippery in my hand was not the one that Tom had bought me a few weeks earlier. The thing was a damn counterfeit. It dawned on me that someone had swapped my perfectly real diamond bracelet for a cheap imitation. I didn’t know how, exactly, but I was positive that young Tweed had a hand in the whole unsavory business.”

“Gosh!”

“Hardly the word I chose at the time.”

“You must have been pipped.”

“Pipped! I was boiling. I grabbed my old riding crop and stormed out in search of the blighted Tweed. It didn’t take me long to find him. I thought he was probably planning to make a break for it, so I ran to the garage. I heard voices as I drew near, so I crept up and peered in through the side window. Sure enough, there was the scoundrel Tweed, holding little Rosalie Todd in his arms.”

“The cad!”

“That was my first thought too. But in that respect, I wronged him. I realized after a moment or two that the girl was sobbing into his shirt collar, and he was just sort of patting her awkwardly and dabbing at her with a handkerchief from time to time.

“’Oh, I feel just awful!’ she said. ‘What’ll you do, Tweed? You’ll be in so much trouble if they find out.’

“’Have no fear, Miss Rosalie,’ he said. ‘I am certain I shall manage. But I think it advisable that you make a hasty departure. Your gentleman is waiting for you. This should provide you the means to settle down comfortably.’ And he pulled something out of his pocket that glittered with a thousand tiny rainbows and pressed it into her hand. She swayed on her feet just looking at it, and so did I.

“’Won’t you come with me?’ she said.

“’I fear I cannot,’ he answered. ‘I have pressing business elsewhere. Don’t worry about me, miss. I will be fine.’

“Of course, I should have rushed in right then and there and snatched the bracelet back, but something stopped me. I simply couldn’t bring myself to it. She asked how she could ever repay him, and he said think nothing of it, and she hopped in her father’s car and tooled off. All the time, I just stood there like a lump, rooted to the spot.

“As soon as the girl was gone, the spell seemed to lift. Tweed had walked out and was standing on the drive gazing after her, and I leaped out and ambushed him, brandishing my riding crop.

“’So!’ I said, and that was about all I could seem to manage. I’m not sure exactly what I was hoping to accomplish. He just stood there gazing at me with the oddest look – a sort of mixture of contrition and defiance, with those big dark eyes boring right into my soul. ‘Madam,’ he said, and for the space of about a minute and a half, that was where things stood.

“’What is the meaning of this?’ I finally demanded, and I waved my crop after the car, which had already long disappeared. ‘What gives you the immortal rind to come waltzing into my home and go foisting my jewels off on strange girls? Just what the devil were you trying to do?’

“’Your final question, madam, is susceptible of a ready answer. I was attempting to help Miss Todd obtain sufficient capital to wed and found a household. She is in love with a gentleman of limited means, and her father did not approve of the match.’

“’Are you telling me,’ I said, ‘that you committed larceny, framed an innocent man, and cost yourself what was no doubt an opulent job, just so you could help this girl go off and marry some other chap? And after all that trouble, you didn’t even keep the dratted bracelet! Are you simply a glutton for punishment, laddie?’

“’No, madam,’ said he, ‘I consider a satisfactory conclusion to Miss Todd’s difficulties to be ample reward for my trouble. And, with respect, Mrs. Travers, I would not go so far as to call Mr. Todd an innocent man. He employed me with the sole purpose of appropriating your bracelet. He promised me a substantial portion of any profit obtained from the venture, on top of a generous fee for my services.’

“’Is that so!’ I said.

“’Indeed, madam,’ the young wastrel replied. ‘He ascertained from Mr. Travers the name of the jeweler from which the item was originally purchased, and sent me to order an imitation of the piece made from inexpensive materials. When he was examining the item last night, we furtively traded the original for the simulacrum. The next morning, it was a simple matter for me to abstract the forged article from your dresser while you were otherwise occupied and plant it in Mr. Todd’s pocket, and to obtain the genuine piece for myself.’

“’Ho!’ I said. I suppose that police constable had rubbed off on me a bit. ‘So you were rooting around in my bedroom, were you? And what made you so sure I would just leave the thing out in plain sight like that? What would you have done if I’d locked it away in a safe somewhere?’

“’The possibility did occur to me,’ he said. ‘But I considered the contingency an unlikely one. Having been informed by an apparently reliable source that the object was of little intrinsic value, you would have had little reason to conceal it.’

“I don’t mind telling you I was feeling positively dizzy at this point. ‘Tell me,’ I asked him at last, ‘is diamond thievery a regular occupation of yours, or a mere hobby?’

“’I have been involved in the illicit trade of valuables for some time, madam,’ he confessed. ‘I seem to have . . . a knack for it, if I may use the vernacular. But of late I find that the work has grown increasingly distasteful.’ He looked me square in the eye and went on: ‘I am prepared to take full responsibility for my actions.’

“Well, again, I don’t know what came over me. For the second time that morning, I found myself frozen in my tracks. By rights, I should have grabbed the kid by the ear and lugged him off to the constabulary, but I just couldn’t. I threw down my crop in disgust.

“‘All right, Tweed, listen to me and listen well,’ I said. ‘Lord knows why I’m doing this – maybe motherhood has made me go all soft – but I’m going to let you walk out of here. But if you ever set foot on this property again, by God, you’ll be walking into your own burial plot.’

“The boy bowed his head. ‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I am in your debt.’

“’Don’t talk to me about debts, Tweed,’ I shouted. ‘Just go, before I change my mind!’

“’Very good, madam,’ he said, and off he went.”  

\---

At this point the relative paused again for breath, and I was just about to point out the continued deficiency of Jeeveses when she resurfaced again.

“Ten years went by,” said Aunt Dahlia, “and as far as I knew this Tweed chap had vanished from the face of the earth. Tom somehow managed to convince the unfortunate jeweler who sold him the gewgaw to pay him back, although of course the wretched fellow had sold him a perfectly good diamond bracelet. Still, Tom was never the same after the incident. He already had a suspicious nature, the poor fish, but after that he went absolutely paranoid.

“Well, one day I was out messing about in the front garden when a taxi pulled up and a tall, dark-haired fellow stepped out. I didn’t recognize him at first – he’d changed so much from the skinny lad I remembered – but as soon as he hove to and said ‘Good afternoon, madam,’ in that soft voice, it hit me like a thunderbolt. It was as if the whole grisly affair had happened only a day before.

“’You!’ I said. ‘You’re that jackanapes Tweed who pinched my diamond bracelet! What the devil are you doing here?’

“’I am here to repay a debt, madam,’ he replied, and he reached into his coat pocket and drew out a jewelry box. He opened it up, and there it was – my old bracelet, glittering away like a tiny fire in the afternoon sun.

“At that point, I dropped my trowel on my foot, and he just stood there – cool as some cucumbers, as Anatole would say – while I danced around the garden cursing a blue streak. When I finally regained my bearings, he calmly handed the thing over with a little bow.

“’And if I may, madam, I would like to properly introduce myself,’ he said. ‘Tweed was merely a pseudonym that I affected in order to facilitate my illicit activities. I have left that life behind. My name is Jeeves.’”  

I somehow managed to upset the soup bowl on my bedside table in my agitation. “What!” I bellowed. Aunt Dahlia made an indignant hunting noise and covered her ears.

“Don’t shout, you blighted Wooster! You nearly pierced my eardrum!”

“What do you mean, don’t shout? You just told me that this Tweed bird was Jeeves the whole time!”

“Honestly, Bertie, I thought you considered yourself a connoisseur of detective fiction.”

“But . . . dash it! Are you telling me, Aunt Dahlia, that I have been nursing a hardened criminal at my breast for the past five years?”

“Are you telling me you’re surprised? Surely you must have figured out by now that Jeeves is no ordinary valet. What sort of valet can spot a synthetic pearl at a glance, knows exactly how to use a blackjack, and goes around with a Mickey Finn on him at all times, just in case the need arises?”

“Oh, all right,” I said, “but I never dreamed he was a bally diamond smuggler.”

“Really, Bertie, I had given you credit for more open-mindedness than this. I’m telling you, he’s a changed man. In all his years working for you, has Jeeves ever nicked anything from you?”  

I sighed and nestled deeper among the blankets, furtively pressing a hand to the Wooster bosom. “Well, nothing I’ve missed, dearest a.,” I admitted.

“I haven’t any idea what you’re on about, Bertie,” she said, “but I won’t hesitate to tell you I would trust Jeeves with my life. Whatever his past faults may be, he’s more than proven himself as far as I’m concerned.”

I inclined the pumpkin penitently. “How right you are, Aunt Dahlia.”

“And once again, we’ve gotten off the rails. I was telling you how Jeeves came to work for you.”

“Quite. Do go on.”

“As I was saying, he had just introduced himself, and I was still recovering from the shock of it all. When I had finally gathered my wits about me sufficiently for human speech, I asked him how in blazes he had managed to get the thing back after so many years.

“He told me that he had been tracking the piece on the market ever since he had given it to Rosalie. She had sold it immediately, and he was eventually able to get it back for an obscenely fair price. I didn’t ask how.

“He said to me, ‘No doubt you will be gratified to learn that during its absence from your possession, the object served its purpose most satisfactorily. The young lady was able to wed her fiancé, and now lives comfortably in the country with her husband and three children.’

“’Well, bully for her,’ I said. ‘That’s all well and good. But what about me? Yes, I have this blasted bagatelle back, but what good does it do me? Does it reverse the damage done to my husband’s digestive system? Does it make it any easier for me to touch him for money I need to pay for the _Boudoir_ every month, now that he’s got it into his head that his wealth is in constant peril?  No, it does not! I like your crust, coming back here.’

“’Of course, madam,’ said Jeeves, ‘I understand the severity of the crime, and I am prepared to make recompense to the extent that I am able. If there is any further service that I might offer you . . .’

“Well, at first I was going to tell him to go boil his head, but then something occurred to me. ‘Tell me, Jeeves,’ I said. ‘Are you employed at the moment? Doing something that doesn’t involve nicking anything that isn’t nailed down, I mean?’

“’Yes, madam,’ he said. ‘Since we last met, I have been employed as a gentleman’s personal gentleman. I find the work extremely gratifying, and far better suited to my personality than my previous occupation. However, I am still seeking a gentleman with whom I am sufficiently compatible. I have had . . . disagreements with my current employer.’

“’I see,’ I said. ‘And tell me, are you as good at busting up engagements as you are at mending them?’

“He sort of waggled his eyebrow at that, and a most devilish gleam crept into his eye. I could see I had touched a chord with the fellow. ’I may have certain talents in that direction, madam,’ he said.

“’Well, listen,’ I said, ‘you may be able to do me a bit of good yet. I have this nephew who has gone and gotten himself engaged to the ghastliest female imaginable. Even my sister Agatha can see it’s a poor match. She’s tried talking the girl out of it, but it’s no good. I could have told her there’s no use trying to talk sense into these young people. A case like this calls for drastic action.’

“’May I ask the names of the young persons?’ he said.

“’Well, the girl is Lady Florence Craye, daughter of Lord Worplesdon. My nephew is Bertie Wooster.’”

I don’t mind telling you I took this rather big. My eyes started from their sockets like twin stars, and I nearly leaped out of bed. “Lord love a duck!” I ejaculated. “You sent Jeeves to break up my engagement to Florence?”

She fixed me with a look that was positively smug. “I did, young Bertie. I’d think you’d show a little more gratitude.”

“Yes, but . . . It’s all just so . . . I mean to say, what?”

“Do calm down, Bertie. Your nervous system doesn’t need the strain. It all ended well, didn’t it? And you know what the chap said about things that end well. Anyway, Jeeves told me he was familiar with the lady in question, and I told him all he had to do was find a way to get your current valet out of the way . . . what was his name, Mayflower?”

“Meadowes!”  

“Yes, yes, Meadowes. Well, Jeeves said he knew Meadowes as well, because they were in the same club together, and that he would work the whole thing. I gather he put Meadowes up to nicking some of your things and generally making an ass of himself about the flat until you sacked him of your own accord. I think they had some kind of bet on about how long it would take you to do it."

"Well, I'm dashed!"

"Jeeves’d heard of you too, by the way – he said something about an amusing passage in the club book.”

“Oh, good lord!”

“So after that, all he had to do was show up on your doorstep and work his magic, and the rest, as they say, is history. But I never expected him to become practically a member of the family. I thought he’d finish the job and head for the hills in search of less goofy employment. But no – he has clung to you like the paper on the wall ever since. I suppose you were the gentleman he was looking for.”

I was dumbstruck. The whole thing was beyond rummy. “Did Uncle Tom ever learn of all this?” I finally managed.

“Of course not! Do you know the effect that would have had on his constitution? We didn’t have Anatole yet when all this happened. His digestion would never have recovered. I sold the bracelet at once. I didn’t need that albatross hanging round my wrist. Tom will live out the rest of his days blissfully unaware of it all, if I have anything to say about it.”

Just then, some soft noises alerted us to Jeeves’s return. Aunt Dahlia hoisted herself out of the chair and gave me a pat on the head. “It sounds like your Florence Nightingale has returned, my little lamb,” she said, “so I’ll be on my way. Rest up, young Bertie, and for heaven’s sake, don’t let this business spoil your opinion of Jeeves. The man is a guardian angel.” And she blew out, leaving me alone with a million questions.  

\---

I settled back on my pillows and shut my eyes. A few moments later I heard Jeeves glide in, no doubt bearing some dreadful elixir. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I suddenly felt a cool hand on my forehead. I opened my eyes and found Jeeves bending over me, looking as ineffable as ever.

“Your fever has abated, sir. I believe you will be fully recovered within a day or two,” he said.

I did my best shoot him a stern glance, which is difficult to do when you’re up to your neck in blankets and sniffling into a handkerchief. “Jeeves, my Aunt Dahlia has just been telling me some dashed interesting things about you,” I said.

He deposited himself cautiously in the recently vacated armchair, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Indeed, sir?”

“Oh yes, Jeeves. In all the years since you swam into my ken, I never suspected for a moment that you were an agent of a meddling aunt, and a former brigand at that!”

Jeeves shifted in his chair and gave me a pained look. “Sir, if you will permit me to explain –“

I waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, Jeeves. No need for that. I just wish you had jolly well told me.”

“I was not sure how you would react to such a revelation, sir.”   

“Just tell me one thing, Jeeves. Why _did_ you stick around?”

“As I have had occasion to say before, sir, there is a tie that binds.”

“Well, Jeeves, I suppose that’s good enough for me, just so long as it keeps on binding.”

He came as close to smiling as he ever does, and for a brief moment his hand rested on mine. I gave a sort of hiccup and tentatively prodded my brow to see if my fever had spiked again.

“I see no reason that it should ever cease, sir,” he said, and he rose from the chair. “Will that be all, sir?”

I smiled contentedly. “Yes, Jeeves. That will be all.”

“Very good, sir.”  



End file.
